


useless

by Fxckxxp



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Foreplay, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Morning Sex, POV Niccolò Fares, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Smut, Thighs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fxckxxp/pseuds/Fxckxxp
Summary: Marti’s a bit useless when Nico kisses him like this: hot, heavy, when they have nothing on but the underwear they slept in and it can’t be misread as anything but a debut to taking them off soon.For Nico, it's a different kind of kiss.





	useless

Marti’s a bit useless when Nico kisses him this way.

Like now — hopeless hands with faltered, fruitless grasps in his hair; parted lips that breathe into his mouth; slack jaw he lets Nico lick into. And when they part — big, warm, and dilated brown eyes that blur like he can’t believe what he sees. A smile so soft and lopsided he probably doesn’t even know the face he’s making. Purely involuntary. And what a way to look.

It’s especially so on the bed — especially so when they have nothing on but the underwear they slept in, and the way Nico kisses him can’t be misread as anything but a debut to taking them off soon.

Nico’s not in a rush, but he has to take Marti home before the morning ends at least. But judging by the light purple of the sky, the sun’s just waking up, too. They’ve spent the last week at the lake with the boys. Sun-saturated, wet, half-naked. Marti checks him out unabashedly, Nico can practically see him drool. It’s the biggest tease to watch Marti like that for eighteen hours a day only to come back to the cabin and sleep on the floor sandwiched between Luca and Elia, unable to do anything about it. Now that Gio has Sofi, drawing straws for the bed isn’t even an option. 

But Nico couldn’t wait any longer. So he took Marti back to his flat a night early with a chorus of wolf whistles behind them out the door. 

(Marti peeked back in to give them all the finger. _Sticazzi. Sticazzi._ It’s a thing now.) 

And after a long train ride, Nico was pushed into the bedroom immediately, forced on the mattress and sucked off so good and came so hard he almost felt bad for leaving the window open and subjecting the public to the noises he made.

Having an apartment all to himself now is nice, if not for just this reason. They don’t have to get dressed right away — can walk to the bathroom naked if they want to. They don’t have to rush. They don’t have to be quiet. 

They can wake up the next morning and do this: lay on their sides, legs tangled together. Make out.

Nico’s hand smooths down Marti’s chest, over his stomach, around his waist to his butt, holds the back of his thigh and hitches it up over his own. Strong. They squeeze his sides like a loving vice grip, and the pressure is just what he’s been missing. It makes him feel small in a good way — when Marti’s larger build is all over him like this. 

They can press closer together this way, too — hips flushed with hips — and feeling Marti get hard makes Nico moan low over their kiss. It’s reciprocated immediately, the same sound a note more desperate through a smile. 

Marti’s too easy, and he feels too good to be legal. All that warm skin on cool sheets. Fingers through his dark messy hair. Nico leans back into the touch, lets Marti chase his lips. 

He allows Nico to rock into him, barely able to kiss back. He whines at a particularly hard thrust where Nico grabs his butt for leverage. At best, the most movement Marti’s making are reactions to Nico’s.

Not that Nico doesn’t love to french Marti silly, to feel him moan on the corners of his lips in uncoordinated kisses and practically hear his brain turn to static between his ears. Because he loves that a lot, loves that he has that effect on Marti. 

But it’s also the reason he loves to pull Marti on top of him: he’s got to do something; he’s got to move. He’s so hot when he does — when Nico can feel all his weight on him, when he controls his own pleasure. Still hesitant yet somehow also hungry. Makes Nico feel like a god: both powerful and desired.

So Nico takes his leg slotted between Marti’s and turns them over, feels all that weight sink around him just like he wanted. Almost like he’s plunging under boiling water. Warm tension everywhere. Just this makes him hotter, harder. He gets a headrush.

Martis shoulders. His hips. Thighs. They clutch around Nico’s frame like he’s both something objectively precious and something lustly coveted. Nico’s exhale becomes a sigh, becomes a whimper at the weight. 

The only thing that comes close to turning him on the way Marti being turned on turns him on is the way Marti feels on top of him.

In this position, he’s almost as useless as Marti.

Being kissed good, too. Marti’s finding Nico’s tongue, running it along his lips, pecking all of the odd corners of his cheeks before chasing them again. Holding his face with propped elbows by his ears, thumbs pressing into his jaw and temples with the rest of his fingers curling into his nape. He’s moving his hips, finding that balance of friction that feels good for them both. Nico can feel how hard he is, finally expressing the suppressed want a week made — that point where he’s turned on enough almost anything feels good. He can hear it in Marti’s breathing, feel it in the vibrations of his chest on the moans caught in the back of his throat for every little shift. He sounds so hot.

Feels so hot. Nico is touching every inch of Marti’s sun-soaked skin he can find. Still warm from the past days, bordering on burnt. He runs his hands up the back of Marti’s thighs, careful not to pull the hairs with his sweaty palms, up the leg holes of his underwear to squeeze his butt. Marti’s hips stutter at the touch. 

But he’s determined. Almost like he’s on a mission to make Nico feel good, getting sidetracked along the way. 

Nico won’t lie, he loves the power trip — loves the effect he has on Marti and the affirmation that comes with his efforts. It’s what makes him unable to not give Marti what he needs every time, because he wants the proof of it. Like he’s addicted to the sight and sound of Marti coming. In his hand, in his mouth. In him. The rawest form of validation. 

He breaks away from Marti’s kiss to find his neck, feeling his chest heave flat against his own to catch his breath. Pretty predictable, but the sound Marti makes would tell you otherwise — like he’s longed to be kissed here forever and it’s the first time. Nico can feel that sound on his lips, hear it ring in his ears like overkill. It’s not quite a whine, maybe a heavy sigh turned groan. Like he’s swallowing it, preparing. 

The thin skin of his throat is hot. Nico feels it bow when he swallows, kisses it wet and open-mouthed, his tongue finding all the divots, every inch as Marti stretches it back to let him. This is what makes him brain-dead. 

Nico squeezes his butt again, presses his hips down so they stay flush. Without movement, just embraced, Nico can almost feel Marti throb in the standstill.

“What do you want?” Marti’s barely able to form the words.

It makes Nico laugh into his skin, coming out all broken and half-thought out like this. But he knows what Marti means. _What do you want to do? How should we continue?_ Maybe he’s so turned on it hurts a little. Nico’s just about getting there. It’s a lot of foreplay for a week apart. Almost like they’re torturing themselves. 

Marti rolls his hips in the interim and Nico’s exhale turns into a low rumble of breath.

“Wait,” is all Nico says. He has an idea. 

He trails his kisses on Marti’s neck down to his collarbones. Feels his arms shake as he tries to hold himself up over Nico in the midst of anticipation. Scoots lower, kisses his chest slow and hot with his tongue. From one pec to the next, a soft one on his nipple that makes Marti shiver before kissing lower, pushing his hands on Marti’s butt to guide him up so his stomach is resting over Nico’s face. His skin is hot against his cheek, still traces of sunshine in all the cells.

He kisses there, too, and feels Marti try to flex his abs. It’s cute. 

Nico’s hands sliding down over the back of his thighs to come between them makes him lose focus, though. Nico takes advantage of kissing his soft lower stomach while he has the chance. Uses his new leverage to touch Marti’s hip with one hand and feel him outside of his boxers with the other. His underwear is already a little wet on the front, and he’s so hard Nico wonders how he’s still alive since there can’t be blood anywhere else in his body.

He runs his flat palm up Marti’s dick just to hear the sound he makes. Frustrated, almost. But also relieved.

“Take these off.” Nico tugs at the waistband.

Marti kicks them off clumsily and quickly.

Naked back on top of him, and now Nico wonders how _he’s_ still alive. He takes a second to look Marti up and down. Tanned skin, extra freckles because of it. Wide hips, wide shoulders. Soft but firm, bigger than he is. Hair pushed back out of his face to reveal love drunk eyes check him out just the same. 

He’s 100% too lucky to have someone like Marti.

Nico scoots himself lower so his legs are bent and hanging off the bed, pushes Marti up further, squeezing his butt, spreading his cheeks with both hands. Until his hips are level with Nico’s face. 

Nico can hear Marti swallow to hold back a whimper.

He thought Marti’s skin was hot on his stomach. Here it’s practically burning.

Marti's upper thighs are marked with the harsh line of a tan, pale on the tops that meet his hips. Somehow that spot is even warmer.

Nico kisses the inside of Marti’s thigh, this time harder. With sucked lips and teeth. From the middle all the way to the crease that meets his groin. Feels Marti’s dick against his cheek when he gets there. Feels his legs spread around his face. Kneads his hands down the length of them. Not lithe at all. They’re more than handfuls from knees on up, and Nico wants them around his ears.

But before that, he moves to the other thigh, gives it the same attention. He admires his work to try and match it — the skin not bruised but tended to. Red, wet, swollen from the spotlight like all the blood wanted to collect there, set the neurons on fire.

He doesn’t feel bad about making Marti wait, because judging by the sounds he’s enjoying it. Somewhere between heavy petting and actual pleasure. 

Marti moves with Nico, tilts his leg to give him more of the inside. Nico goes further on this one, almost kissing his cheek. Coming back around with softer kisses up to Marti’s pelvis. And at this, Marti rolls his hips into nothing. But he wants. Uncontrolled movements that indicate he just wants.

Nico lays down flat and tugs on Marti’s legs, who shuffle over him until all Marti needs to do is spread his thighs and he’s sitting on his face.

“Bend over me,” Nico swallows.

Marti does — back arched in the air, body creating a slope while his head rests on his folded arms somewhere far above Nico’s head.

Nico turns his neck to get some last kisses by the insides of Marti’s knees, holding the backs of them and running his grip up until he’s got a good hold on his hips.

Marti’s practically ready to drip on his face. But he’s being more patient than Nico anticipated, so without much of a warning, Nico pulls Marti’s hips down and takes him in his mouth.

This weight is equally nice: Marti on his tongue. Harder than maybe ever, he takes up more room in Nico’s mouth than he remembers, or maybe it's just the angle. 

And just like Nico wanted, Marti starts thrusting slowly over his face, fucking his mouth. 

Nico has to use his hands on Marti’s hips to steady him, to keep him from going too far down his throat. The problem with that is feeling the movement of them just makes Nico’s brain blip with how hot it is. 

Going down they fold in, crease at the thighs around his face. Nico can feel the soft inner parts of Marti’s legs against his ears and temples. Going up pulls sounds out of Marti, Nico’s wet mouth tighter in pressure. Higher than his speaking voice, even in tone until they falter as he remembers to breathe.

They form a comfortable rhythm fast, Marti careful not to push too far. It’s almost sweet he can remember in the midst of this. So Nico removes his protective hands from his hips to the outsides of his thighs. Grabs them and smooths up. The touch makes Marti spread them further, dip lower into Nico’s mouth. 

He takes up all the room, everywhere. On his tongue, over his face, in his mind. 

Nico needs to feel something. He removes one hand from Marti and reaches in his underwear to touch himself, an instant tightness around his middle when he does so and an instant relief that manifests in a whiney exhale. He brings his knees up, spreads his legs open so they aren’t hanging off the bed anymore. He’s so hard he’s almost numb — like his nerves swelled so big they drowned — and he times his own hand on himself with Marti’s hips, achingly slow for what he would want. 

The pleasure still makes him moan, though — grab Marti’s thigh tighter. It must feel good on Marti’s dick in his mouth because Marti reels before testing out a faster pace. Encouraging Nico that he likes it. 

Matching, again, the speed. Coupled with Marti getting frantic. That’s what makes Nico come. All over his own hand and stomach, losing focus on taming Marti’s hips which push further in his mouth. His stomach constricts with it, his hips draw up. He sighs deeply through his nose and can feel his closed eyes roll back. He sure didn’t last long, but that’s not the point. 

Before it’s even fully over, Nico brings his hand back up. This time on Marti’s butt, feeling him hump his face. Sticky skin from sweat and come. 

And a realization for Marti at the touch. That Nico came already. 

He must feel it, Nico hears him moan. Louder this time. And soon after, an unintelligible string of expletives and he’s coming in Nico’s mouth with uneven thrusts and legs turned jelly that can barely keep him up. He practically lays on Nico’s face. 

It’s a lot after a week of nothing. Built up. He comes hard, for what seems like ages. Nico feels the pulse of his dick against the inside of his cheek long after he’s swallowed everything. He almost has to push Marti off of him. 

But he goes willingly, always does.

They lie there on their backs, breathing heavy for a minute. Nico especially.

He can forgive Marti for being useless when he’s kissed hot. If only for the fact that after he’s taken care of there’s not an inch of Nico not touched with caring hands, not met with soft lips. It’s all given back to him without losing anything. It only takes a moment before they're back together.

Marti scoots down to meet Nico face to face and kisses the tip of his nose before wrapping his arms around his shoulders, pulling him tight against his chest. Scratches his back lightly in little circles, hooks their ankles and this time rolls Nico on top of him despite the mess all over his stomach. Marti obviously couldn’t care less. He just hugs him close with comforting arms, crossed around Nico’s shoulder blades with one bent up to comb lazily through the curls on the back of his head.

He holds him like he’ll never let go, and that means more to Nico than Marti probably realizes.

Nico leans his neck back to look up at him. A stupid, dopey smile. Tender, warm-brown eyes. Yeah, 100% too lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Another kiss, this time on Nico’s cheek and another, this time on his mouth. Delicate but not fragile, sweet but not saccharine. Marti starts to smile and Nico can’t do anything but revel in how it feels on his lips.

These are the kisses that render Nico useless. The soft ones. The ones he can feel Marti’s love pour out of. 

But that’s okay. Marti will have to forgive him for it.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on [tumblr!](https://bisexualcaravaggio.tumblr.com/) 💛


End file.
